


Dateline:1918

by Noir_Dix



Series: Dateline: 1918 [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Naughty language, Other, Randy Chaplain, Rats, Vampires, general silliness, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: What started the madness...





	1. Chapter 1

Somewhere in France...

The officer sat alone at the small table. He had a badly beaten plate, a fork, & a small tin cup of wine. The plate had a nice cut of beef, which, from all outward appearances, looked brown & well-cooked.

The inside, however, was raw & bloody... so much so, that a small pool of blood had collected in the plate.

The officer stared ahead, his mind clearly somewhere other than the small, cold barracks where he sat.

He wore a chaplain's uniform. His hat sat on the table, & he had removed his leather gloves to eat.

He wore tall, black boots... polished  so that they shone. (This was a big conceit.)

And, he sported a trim little moustache, which he now dabbed at, with a bit of what might have once been a napkin.

A young infantryman stood in the doorway. He had been watching the officer eat for a few moments, & was decidedly uncomfortable.

The officer pulled out a knife. It was his own, & he carried a few. This was the smallest.

He had already cut the meat, but selected a small bit, & proceeded to cut it into several more tiny morsels.

He was humming as he did this. Then, he mumbled something akin to a tune, but, it made no sense to the soldier in the doorway.

"...but do not forget your knives, to save your lives, to save your lives..."

Task complete, he gave a low whistle.

To the soldier's abject horror, the hat began to stir.

"Dix..." the officer said, "come out & have a bite to eat."

A white rat suddenly sat up in the hat.

The soldier gave a small yelp & nearly fainted.

The officer looked at him as though he were the world's biggest idiot... his mismatched, sunken eyes seeming to burn right through him.

The rat looked at him, as well.

How was that even possible?

The thing was almost impossibly white, & it scampered over to sit by the plate, before taking a bloody bit of meat between its little pink paws.

The soldier shuddered.

"You are asking yourself, 'Why is this man calling this creature by a girl's name?'" the officer mused.

No, the soldier wasn't. He didn't care about the creepy chaplain, or his creepy rat. He had something to tell him, & had ended up lingering too long.

"Because she is a beautiful, pale thing, & was named after a beautiful, pale, girl." the officer went on, as if anyone cared.

The rat stopped in the middle of nibbling, & actually looked at the man, who smiled at it wanly.

If the soldier had been close enough, he might have noticed that the rat had dark blue eyes, & not the pink of an albino.

"What sort of a name is Dix?" the soldier asked, his brain suddenly sputtering to life. "It means ten."

The chaplain glared at him.

"It is short for Dixie." he explained, crossly. "Like, in America... The southern Dixieland."

He took his index finger & gently petted the thing's head. The soldier could have sworn the thing smiled, & its dainty pink ears turned red.

The officer's hands were as white as alabaster.

All right. Enough of this.

"Sir, I apologize for interrupting your meal, sir... but, there's been-"

"Another massacre?" the chaplain levelled his eerie gaze on the other man.

"-an incident." the soldier finished weakly.

"Ah." was all the chaplain said.

He picked up his cup of wine, & sipped at it.

The man's face wasn't right. One side seemed to drag, as though he'd had a stroke.

The rat was about halfway through its bloody morsels. It looked at the chaplain, & for all the world, seemed to clasp its tiny paws together.

The man sighed, & topped off his little tin cup.

He held it back, for a moment.

"Now, don't over-do it, darling." he said.

And the rat glared at him.

The soldier beat a hasty retreat. Enough was enough.

He passed the commanding officer in the short space that was supposed to be a "hall".

"Did you tell him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is he going?"

"I don't know, sir."

"I suppose I'll have to find out."

'Have fun with that.' the flustered soldier thought.

He arrived to find the chaplain cleaning his knives. The rat was up on his left shoulder; it seemed half-asleep.

"Chaplain, if you could-" the c.o. began.

"How many?" he interrupted. He started pulling on his gloves.

"A dozen."

The chaplain stood, taking his hat in one hand, & gently holding the rat on his shoulder with the other.

The two men faced each other.

The chaplain was a small man, but still managed to suck all the air out of the space.

The rat yawned & tried to burrow against the chaplain's collar.

"Gas?" he asked.

The commanding officer shook his head.

"No. Just guns." the man looked crestfallen. "It was an ambush."

The chaplain just gave an odd grunt. For those that knew him for what he really was, it was approval.

He hated the gas; gave everything a weird taste.

He went to his bunk & got his huge great coat.


	2. Chapter 2

A while later, he stood on the killing field. The moon was full, & lit everything with a silvery glow.

He had managed to keep the rat on his shoulder, yet cover her with his great coat.

"Dix..." he crooned softly. "Dix." he tried again.

He could swear she was snoring. An alarming thought, considering her diminutive size.

"DIX!" he exclaimed, earning a startled squeak.

Then, a few gentle, yet aggravated nips at his earlobe.

He held his hands up to help her out from under his coat.

She looked at him.

"Not a living soul for miles." he confirmed, as was their custom.

Then, he set her down on the ground.

He frowned, noticing that his boots were already dusty.

A cloud of mist began to build around the rat at his feet, until, eventually, it was about as tall & broad as he.

And then, a woman stood in its place. She was shorter than him, marble white, with waist-length hair.

And naked as the day she was born.

The chaplain was already shrugging out of his massive coat. He then held it for her to step back into. He made a show of bundling the coat about her tightly, & ended up holding her in a fierce embrace.

"I've missed you." he growled raggedly in her ear.

She shivered, before managing to shuffle around to face him.

"I know!" she said, grinning.

She did know, too. She was always present for the lonely nights, alone in his bunk.

He kissed her feverishly, intent on devouring her.

They both tasted of the wine from dinner. And the bloody meat. But, mainly wine.

His hands were everywhere. If she didn't stop him, they'd be under the coat, & then they'd never get anything done.

She put her hands to his chest, in a staying gesture.

He glared at her.

"So, what's the story?" she asked brightly.

He kept up the glare for a good minute, before giving up with a sigh.

"Supposedly a dozen. But, there are more."

"Gas?" she asked.

He shook his head. She was just talking to talk... She already knew this; they would have smelled gas by now.

"Hmm..." she licked her lips absentmindedly.

He grabbed her wrist, & was going to kiss her senseless again, but, she interrupted.

"Where shall we stack them?"

He sighed again, utterly deflated... well, except for...

He gestured toward the blackened skeleton of a tree.

"How about there?"

She stepped up to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck & kissed him, but, normally. (Not in a face-eating kind of way.)

She tangled her fingers in his hair, & let the pad of one thumb brush a sideburn, which were getting more impressive all the time.

He made a happy little sound, took her hand in his, & kissed her wrist... before dragging his fangs over the spot.

His other hand rested on her hip, which, despite the bulk of the coat & his glove between them, was still managing to press her buttons.

"You're not the only one that's been lonely."

"Mmm..." the hand on her hip was trying to pull her in closer.

"You have at least been able to take care of yourself."

Closer. She took a step back.

"Whereas I... was a rat."

He took a step forward, but, blinked as her words sunk in.

"Huh."

She gave him a meaningful look.

"I hadn't thought about that."

She knew he hadn't. She knew all that he'd been up to... while she was "indisposed".

"Rats do fuck, you know." this was his wisdom.

She had no words for this.

"Surely, they could play with themselves..."

He raised his eyebrows.

Still nothing.

"You were a very cute rat." he mused. "Next time, I shall make myself into a brown rat, & come fuck your brains out."

And he grinned.

She put a hand over her eyes.

Why was he like this?

He looked to the sky.

"We're losing moonlight." he pulled her into a weird embrace, as though he were going to dance with her.

"Bon appetit, my darling." He spun her around, & was off.

She dragged the last body to the designated tree.  
She had pulled any identification, & had stuffed it in the pockets of Copia's coat. The men were all well & truly dead... thus did not mind sharing some of their blood.

She was glutted on the stuff; much fuller than she had been in a long time.

They would have to make arrangements for the bodies the next night. Tonight, there simply wasn't enough time.

That was how it usually went. The first night was always recon, (& smorgasbord!) Occasionally, they even saved the odd person.

There was an old barn a ways away. Its house was damaged & had been abandoned, apparently.

She headed that way.

She found him inside. He was in what had been one of the stables, sitting on the floor, long legs stretched out & crossed at the ankles.

And, he had managed to polish his boots back up.

"Have a good time?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Depends on your definition." she answered.

"Hmm." he regarded her. "My love, you almost look as though you belong to the world of the living."

She sat down next to him. The hay wasn't so old, & the stable was clean.

He had already taken off his hat. Now, he removed a glove & pressed his hand to her neck, as it was about the only flesh she had exposed. Well, except for her feet. It never ceased to amaze him, how she got around barefoot, after dropping the glamour.

"Your flesh is barely warm." he said. She felt his breath on her neck.

"There isn't time for this." she informed him half-heartedly. "It will be twilight, soon."

There would be no dissuading him this time, she realized, as he pulled his coat open, exposing her to the night.

"There is always time." he growled.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream. It featured Copia in WWI drag. A chat friend mentioned Jack Boots...  
> He ended up a chaplain w/ a rat in his hat.  
> I borrowed heavily from Castlevania LoS2 for some of this.  
> I used some of my name in this made-up goulash... sounded like something hokey CC would come up with.  
> I haven't had the nerve to tackle any real smut, yet.


End file.
